


Perdicious Conjunction

by ZeldaByrdeBishop



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeldaByrdeBishop/pseuds/ZeldaByrdeBishop
Summary: Faustus Blackwood discovers Zelda Spellman in the Academy Library after dark after she learns of her brother's death.
Relationships: Faustus Blackwood/Zelda Spellman
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Perdicious Conjunction

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the world of "A Witch By Another Name"
> 
> This one-shot deals with a softer side of Faustus Blackwood

Faustus Blackwood was completing his rounds through the Academy of the Unseen Arts for bed check, when he paused by the library seeing a small sliver of light through the door. It was much too late for the students to be up. He scowled, slipping through the crack in the door and was surprised to see Zelda Spellman’s slender figure bent over a myriad of books. After discovering the news of the death of her brother just yesterday he would have assumed she would have taken leave away from the academy to spend this time with her family, but the witch consistently surprised him. 

Quietly, he shut the door behind him and walked across the large study space to where she sat at the table closest to the fireplace. He didn’t hide his presence and she didn’t look up from the text. 

“I expected to find myself chastising a student for late reading - not former staff.”

The witch said nothing and turned the page of the textbook. 

He waited a moment to see if she would change her mind and speak, but she didn’t. He watched as she kept her eyes glued to the pages of the text, but could see she wasn’t really reading it. He moved to her other side and gently lifted the cover of the book, just getting the chance to read the title before the witch snapped the cover back to the table with the force of her hand. The title of the book sent shivers down his spine, “‘Malleus Maleficarum’.... A  _ Catholic _ text, Zelda?”

Her shoulder’s shivered at the word, but she held the text firmly to the table with her arm, a small sniffle sneaking through her harsh pretense, only causing her vice like grip on the book to tighten. Faustus could feel an unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he watched her and he lowered himself down to her eye level, finally able to see the tears that, upon his presence, immediately began to spill from her eyes, flooding her cheeks. His frown deepened and he gently began to rub the witch’s knee. “Zelda….” 

The witch kept her eyes trained on the page, speaking without reading the words, “For the divine in many places commands that witches are not only to be avoided, but also they are to be put to death, and it would not impose the extreme penalty of this kind if witches did not really and truly make a compact with devils in order to bring about real and true hurts and harms-”

“Zelda,” Faustus interrupted, his voice soft as his hand slid down to her ankle, gently rubbing her ankle bone through her sheer tights. 

The witch leaned back in the chair, finally letting go of the text, which Faustus immediately grabbed with his other hand and spoke once mrore, “Evil is a  _ voluntary act _ .” 

Faustus’ frown grew as he knelt beside her, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t, so he silently stood up and physically returned the book to the large glass case of “Forbidden Literature”....and then it dawned on him.

“Sister Spellman….by which means did you acquire my key to this case?”

“..... _ Voluntary _ means.”

He scowled turning back to her.

“What will you do?......Subjugate me to punishment for theft?” She inquired to him, dropping the key almost seductively onto the table, clearly not sound of mind. 

Although the thought was tempting and he desired greatly to take advantage of it, the High Priest moved back to the table, and took back the key. “No.” 

He watched as her eyes immediately retreated back to their cloudy state and she tensed, almost as if to vomit, but froze there. He could feel himself holding his breath. He had seen Zelda Spellman drunk on many occasions and had often benefited from the unusual relaxed state of the witch, but this was different. He could feel the desperation radiating off of her waxy flesh, desperation he could only assume was for her brother. The brother he’d killed. As much as he hated Edward, hated his theft of status, and hated his doctrine which he knew needed to be eradicated, he could feel the pang of regret seeping into his bones. He had expected the younger of the Spellman Sisters to react in such an intense manner, but not the eldest. Not Zelda. 

“Can you walk?” he asked, holding out his hand. 

She scowled and sunk further into the chair, her hands clutching the arms of the ornate wooden chair.

“Sister Spellman?” he asked before reaching down to scoop her up, but was met with a quick slap to his hands. 

“Don’t,” He would have protested, but the look in her eyes gave him pause. It wasn’t

defiance. It was fear. He had seen the Spellman afraid only a handful of times. It was one of the things he admired about her, her ability to shield what she might be thinking in order to gain what she needed. It was extraordinary. But, periodically the witch gave way to her weakness, most notably in matters involving her late father. Faustus agreed that witches should be controlled as their ionic natures could prove harmful to the safety of the coven, but Reginald Spellman had always taken this principle further than most other warlocks. 

Reginald Spellman was a warlock not to be revered, but feared and he had seen the effects of such a warlock. There was punishment for insolence and then there was debilitation as retaliation for insolence, and this acclaimed warlock tended towards the later, particularly with his daughter, Zelda. He recalled being relieved, but genuinely surprised to see the witch alive the day after they had been caught by the older warlock in the back of the library, unclothed and very much  _ engaged _ in the demonology section after academy hours.

He stepped back and watched as the witch carefully pulled herself out of the chair, poised despite her state, lifting a hand to her forehead before turning to him. 

He lifted his hand and swept it across him, taking them to his office, where he gestured to the green lounge chair beside the fireplace. The witch graciously sat down and rested her head in her hands, her elbows in her lap. He moved to get her usual glass of whiskey, but thought better of it and conjured some water instead, setting the glass on a small table he moved to set in front of her…..along with a waste paper basket. The Spellman granted him her middle finger, but her eyes were grateful as she took a few sips of the water, before pausing, her body tensing as she bit back vomit. He smirked to himself and went back to his desk, sitting down. 

“Sister Zelda…. I placed a basket next to you for a purpose.”

The witch glared into the fireplace, determined, but was betrayed by her body as it convulsed, forcing her to bring the infernal basket to her lips. “Satan in hell…”

The warlock turned his chair to glance back at the books behind him. “Why were you reading that text, Zelda? It’s quite removed from your character.”

“It’s none of your business, Faustus,” she replied, “Do you have a handkerchief?”

He nodded, pulling out his favorite handkerchief, a cream cloth embroidered with his initials, and handed it to her. She took it and used it to wipe the bile from her lips, setting the waste can down and leaned back into the lounge chair, shutting her eyes. 

He waited a few moments before prying again, “If I didn’t know any better - I would wonder if you felt, perhaps  _ guilty _ for the death of your brother and was searching in the false god’s texts for the unkind words you wished to hear?”

The witch frowned and clutched the handkerchief in her hand, “Faustus... The room is spinning, can we please not speak?”

“You were in no way a cause of Edward Spellman’s death, Zelda. You are not to blame, no matter what you’ve done. I’m sure of it.”

“You know nothing of what I do,” the woman retorted weakly, her hand moving back to her forehead.

Faustus stood up and moved to kneel beside the chair, gently resting his hand over the hand that rested in her lap. “You couldn’t have prevented it. There is no need for penance. As…..your new High Priest, I forbid it, Zelda.”

The witch took in a gentle shuddering breath, her other hand slipping slightly to cover her eyes, trying to hide the tears that pricked, but failing. Faustus moved to sit beside her on the couch, gently taking his thumb to her cheeks, wiping away the tears that fell beyond her loose shield. The witch’s eyes beginning to clear with sobriety, giving way to melancholy now that she’d expelled the waste from her body. The witch’s quick metabolism making quick work of the poison in her system to her dismay. 

“I…...I was forced to give up so much… so Edward could be the High Priest and now?!” Her voice squeaked through her throat as tears fell faster and she brought the handkerchief up to her nose. “....And now?....It wasn’t even worth it. I had to give it all up and it wasn’t even worth it and I  _ miss _ him Faustus. I miss my brother….. I do. And yet my thoughts keep circling back to my own losses!? How evil -” she sobbed, the last lines of her lamentation lost as he took her into his arms, holding her close as he buried his nose into her hair to take in her amber and jasmine perfume again. He’d missed that scent and hated how it made his chest tighten, but despite his better judgement he pulled the witch into his lap, alternately rubbing her arm and thigh while she sobbed, her hot forehead against his neck. He should have married her regardless of what her infuriating brother said. Maybe if he had defied her brother’s wishes and married her instead he would have done what he now realized was what Edward had feared - and become High Priest instead of Edward. If instead it was he who had become High Priest as they rebuilt the Church of Night after the coven finally reconvened after the witch trials in the new world, he would have never had to kill Edward. He wouldn’t have to hold Zelda while she mourned. She wouldn’t have had to give up the horrid thing he suspected she had to give up so Edward would move up instead of him. They could have been happy. 

Yet, here he sat knowing Constance must be wondering where he was. He knew he should leave, tell her she can stay in his office as long as she wanted and go back to his wife, but he won’t. Instead, he stroked Zelda Spellman’s soft red curls and pressed a kiss to her hairline. 

The witch’s sobs slowly lowered to sniffles and she blew her nose before pulling away slightly, to his secret dismay, his body feeling cold the second she parted. 

“....I don’t know how I’m going to live without my brother, Faustus…” Her lower lip trembled, but she kept her composure, her fingers delicately folding the handkerchief again to wipe her nose. “I can’t lead my family...not like him.”

Faustus frowned and took her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, forcing her to look at him. “You’re right, Sister Zelda. You won’t lead your family like your late brother. You will lead them better. And now...you have a baby to raise. You always wanted that. Cherish it, Sister,” he finished, kissing the salty tears off her cheeks.

“Faustus….”

“Zelda…” He murmured, running his thumb over her lips as he whispered a spell to erase any last remnants of the bile she’d expelled, before he captured her lips with his. 

The witch moaned softly into the kiss, immediately deepening it, her hands dropping the handkerchief to the floor to clutch his shirt, pulling him closer. This was how they’d always coped; with anger, with sorrow, with shock. Their bodies cured all and hers was his preferred medicine. What Constance didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Perhaps he would even submit himself to penance later, but for now all he would feel was Zelda’s fingers unbuttoning his shirt and her soft thighs in his hands, all else would wait. 


End file.
